Deep Red Blood
by emma.smith05
Summary: A short story, inspired by TwilightWolf48's story. This show the story of Edward's first hunt when he left Carlisle and Esme. This is a one-shot and won't be updated, but if you could review, that would be great.


**Disclaimer - I don't own the Twilight series, or the characters.**

**Author's Note: This has been inspired by **_Angels and Demons_** written by TwilightWolf48. Thank you!**

**Deep red blood**

Edward's POV

Carlisle had been shocked with my decision, but tried to keep censure from his thoughts. He treated me like a son, so trusted my decisions, however much he personally disagreed with them.

Esme was displeased, but hoped that I would use my gift to decide who deserved to die. I had been planning on doing that, so her thoughts gave me hope. A hope that I was doing the right thing.

So I left. I went off on my travels, hunting those who were the rabble and scum of human life. The ones that would be given the death sentence by the courts, but that would never get the pain they deserved.

I remembered each and every near victim. Innocents that had no idea of where their future was headed. I'll always remember them.

The first near victim has always been the clearest. She was young. She was walking down the alleyway going to work, trying to mask her fear at going through the dark. Her blond hair covered her face as she shuffled through the streets, trying to remain inconspicuous in the deserted town. I registered the shock that filled her thoughts as she saw the man leaned against the lamp post.

He had been waiting for a victim himself. He had been waiting for an innocent to stumble across him so he could claim them as his own. His twisted thoughts created a deep-seated loathing within me that had me rushing to save to save the young girl.

As they passed, they noted one another: she reacted with a fear that widened her eyes, something that made him smile with expectation.

_She'll be a good one. _He began plotting what he would do, how he would make her scream for her life...

I growled as I ran through the streets, the wind flying in my hair, hatred possessing me, making me fly.

"Hey there," he shouted over to her. I was close enough that I could hear him speak. The girl sped up in fear, panic and survival instinct overcoming any surprise she had remaining. "Don't be like that," he shouted at her again. "Come here. Enjoy yourself."

I walked down the street, abhorrence visibly cracking the mask of self-discipline I had worn for over a decade. He noticed me as I walked up the alley, but his thoughts were turned to his victim, too intent on her to concentrate on my features.

The girl took one look at me and staggered back in fear: my livid thoughts were clearly visible on my face, boiling beneath the surface of my black, thirsty eyes. The man chuckled with a dark anticipation. I growled and that was when he truly looked at me, wondering how I could make such an animalistic and terrifying sound.

I leapt before he had a chance to blink and forced him against the wall, cracking bricks in the process. The girl squeaked in fear and I turned to face her, holding the man against the wall with one hand. "Go now," I said, in a voice that she barely heard. My voice was strained and harsh as I tried to control myself enough to spare this girl a sight she didn't deserve to be scarred with. She followed my advice and fled.

_Thank you, my destroying angel, _she thought as she ran home, too frightened to work.

I concentrated my attentions then on the man squirming with fear beneath my hands, and dealt a blow for blow on him, before hunting him like the dog he was.

I began to live my life like this, feeding the revulsion and God complex by living in their thoughts and feelings, feeling my disgust at the crimes they had committed and at their hunt for more.

I saved nearly three hundred lives from ruin. I killed over three hundred to save them. I considered myself good, at the time. Then my conscience smote me, showing me all the folly of doing what I had been.

I was a monster.

Carlisle and Esme greeted me on my return like I had never left, like they couldn't see the markers of my bloodthirsty life of hostility. The burgundy eyes and hatred reflected in my face meant nothing to them - I was their son.

But I didn't care what they said. I had left to help those that couldn't help themselves. I had left when I wanted to make a difference to the world, human and vampire. I had left to stop the monsters.

But it had backfired. Now, I was the monster, soaked in deep red blood.


End file.
